This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. . He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. “Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times.
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